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Hugin chose not to recall the Smoke Demon because he needed a presence to converse with, a way to minimize his anger's impact on his thoughts.
Though the smoke demon was a chatterbox, Hugin had long grown accustomed to its presence. He knew that, despite its sharp tongue and fondness for mockery, its thoughts were incisive and truthful.
"So, what exactly do you plan to do? Are you trying to create some fabricated organization? Don't be ridiculous. After all these years with you, don't you think I'm aware how much control the royal family has over the Nightblades?
"The Nightblades are a relic of a bygone era. They may have had some degree of autonomy in the past, but how much of that remains? You should be well aware. How do you intend to get the leverage to pull this off? And if you're exposed, both the nobles and the royal family will target you. Damn it, I don't want to die with you."
The smoke demon's swirling vapors spun relentlessly around Hugin, its grating voice hammering home harsh truths.
"You're right, but I'm still not giving up. You know full well that my potential, Malevolent Possession, is bound to end in tragedy. I won't let this tragedy consume me, even if it costs me my life. I once believed that the Nightblades could help me achieve this goal, but now… I realize I was wrong."
Hugin pulled open a drawer in his desk, retrieving an ordinary-looking...
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